


Freudian Flip

by Amand_r



Category: Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter - Laurell K. Hamilton, Highlander: The Series
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-04
Updated: 2011-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-17 13:46:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amand_r/pseuds/Amand_r
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Look, Mac, I lost the hotel keys and you lost my wallet. Jean Claude has been so generous in taking us in, and I'll tell you, he's always been most hospitable."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freudian Flip

**Author's Note:**

  * For [calime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/calime/gifts).



> (HL x Anita Blake) Prompt: Duncan/Jean Claude, maybe please Methos?

It wasn't that he didn't like chocolate. It was that it really wasn't a condiment. And his body was not a sundae, or plate, or other such thing.

"It's sticky and it doesn't come off unless you take a bath," he said sulkily. It was a really stupid thing to be saying, considering the fact that the man in the bed with him was, well, yeah, and he was stalling for time by arguing about chocolate syrup. And of course the man in the bed was also smiling, and stroking—"Okay then, we'll use it."

"Are you sure?" Jean Claude teased, wagging the bottle back and forth before flipping the toggle up with his thumb and tipping the bottleneck upside down on his shoulder. "Oops."

Duncan sighed. This whole 'sex with the vampire' thing was creepy enough, but so far there had been a bath and now there was chocolate and god, if Methos was on the bed he would have made a Laura Esquivel joke.

"I thought that you were going to—" Jean Claude smiled and tossed his hair out of his eyes a bit, and it was a small gesture, but it was enough to show Duncan his pointed teeth. "Oh, yeah, that's right." He squinted. "Are you sure I'm not drunk? I'm not sure I'd be doing this if I was sober."

A moving duvet on the floor stopped moving, groaned and flipped back to reveal a wash of black hair. "Look, Mac, I lost the hotel keys and you lost my wallet. Jean Claude has been so generous in taking us in, and I'll tell you, he's _always_ been most hospitable." Asher's blond head whispered something in his ear, and he laughed. "Besides, wasn't it you who stripped and danced on the bar earlier?"

Duncan closed his eyes and grinned. Okay, the bar had been serving this Australian beer and he'd not eaten anything since the Power Bar at breakfast and then the conversation with Methos's old buddies (had he _even_ called Jean Claude and Asher _buddies_? Had he really said that?) had turned to something from Temptation Island and then whoops, some woman had asked him if he was a professional dancer and what conditioner did he use?

Duncan watched Jean Claude crawl towards him, and _then_ he remembered. Oh yeah, he'd said that he'd sleep with any man who could tie a cherry stem into a knot with his tongue. And there had been bets. With handshakes. Sealed with spit. Oh, and well.

"I suppose," Jean Claude said, running a finger in the chocolate on his shoulder and holding it to Duncan's mouth. "That I should demonstrate why chocolate is indeed a condiment, oui?" His eyes flashed, and Duncan heard laughing from the floor and wondered if they were laughing at him until Jean Claude's skin slid over his legs and he leaned back against the headboard and realized that oh fuck, beer led to bed things--bad--things, he meant bad things.


End file.
